The Beat Around Us (The Heartbeat Series, #2)

by Meadows, Ellie

  I’d been in this hospital room all day, having my vitals taken, having new concerned faces asking me if I was ‘sure’ and I’d felt fine until now. I felt like the doctor could see the panic on my face, because her features softened and she came to perch on the side of the adjustable bed. “Anna, are you sure this is what you want?”

  There it was again, that word. Sure. And I’d never been more unsure about anything. Ever. But I was sure. Not for myself, but for her... or him. “I have to,” I whispered. “It’s not the baby’s fault.”

  “What’s not the baby’s fault?” Her keen physician eyes drilled into me.

  “What happened to me,” I said, my voice the ghost of the once-whisper I’d just used.

  Her hand moved to rest atop the covers right at my knee. She gripped it gently. “Anna, this pregnancy...did it happen consensually?”

  I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud, so I just shook my head. Her grip on my leg tightened.

  “Did you report it to the police?”

  Tongue tied, I simply shook my head again.

  “Anna, I can help you. You don’t have to go through this alone.” Her words cut to the quick of the grief that I’d held inside too long—on dark nights when I didn’t want him to hear me crying, on bright mornings when my mother didn’t believe me. It all welled up in a fountain of heartache. My body shook, and I began to sob. And she held me close, the way I wanted my mother to so many times. “It’s okay,” she ran her hands down my hair and whispered the kindest things to me, and all I could do was cry as I’d never cried before.

  A knock on the door startled us apart. Or, rather, it startled me. The doctor was composed, despite the redness around her eyes.

  “Anna, it’s Silas. The nurse station said you hadn’t been released yet. Can I come in?”

  I swiped at my eyes roughly, willing my face not to be a blotchy mess. “Sure, come in,” I said, managing not to sound ridiculous.

  The doctor stood up, and for the first time, I tried to read her name label. Basinger. “Doctor Basinger, please don’t tell anyone,” I said it quickly before the door was fully open to the room.

  Her face was warring between emotions, but she nodded slightly. “Of course not, but you need counseling, Anna. This is a huge thing you’re doing, on top of the trauma.”

  “Trauma?” Silas had stepped inside, and we hadn’t been fast enough. We hadn’t spoken quietly enough.

  Doctor Basinger turned quickly, light on her feet. “She’s been ill. She needs to avoid heavy activity and anything else that could perpetrate further damage to the fetus.” I could tell she was doing her clinical best to divert, but Silas looked away from her at me, and his eyes told me that he wasn’t totally buying what she was selling. “I’ll be back to get her for a few tests soon. She needs to rest and manage her stress levels.

  “Sure, sure,” Silas said, still looking at me, his gaze unwavering.

  The doctor gave me a passing glance, the skin around her eyes wrinkled in concern.

  When she was gone, that stupid silence was back. I felt this urge to fill it, so I did. And I immediately wished I was still tongue-tied. “How was your shift? Was it good? Did you save anyone?” The words tumbled out in a building crescendo until I clipped myself off forcibly. Heat rushed into my cheeks. “I’m sorry. It’s been... a boring day.” I tried to explain away my nervous word vomiting.

  He just smiled, a quick upturn of the right side of his mouth, and then he moved to the chair in the corner of the room. “We didn’t save anyone today. A false alarm heart attack that turned out to be indigestion from hot wings. A little boy who shoved peas up his nose and his grandmother thought he was going to choke.”

  “Well, I’d take that over a day of being poked and prodded and constantly asked if I know what I’m doing.” I didn’t mean to say the last, it just slipped out.

  “Anna,” Silas leaned forward in the chair, “I don’t need to know your whole story. You can tell me as little or as much as you want. I’m going to be here for you. No matter what.”

  “Why... why would you do that?” I stuttered, not believing him. What does he want? What’s his ulterior motive? “I’m a total stranger.”

  “In some ways,” he stood up and walked over to me. His right hand lifted and he brushed the hair out of my face to nest behind my ear. “In other ways, you’re so familiar it hurts.”

  I didn’t understand what he meant, yet in that moment I trusted him more than anyone I’d ever met. I couldn’t tell him everything, not yet. There was too much misery wrapped up in the truth.

  “I’m pregnant,” I said those two words and they’re not quite as scary as they were five minutes ago. “And it’s not something I chose. It wasn’t a careless accident. It... it happened to me.” It was the best way I could say it right now. The only way I could face it. The same way I’d worded it to Doctor Basinger. This thing had happened to me, this horrible thing, and because of it something else had happened. A life had sparked.

  Silas’s face screwed up in pain. He understood.

  But he doesn’t press me, he doesn’t ask for more information. He sat down, on the opposite side of where the female doctor had, and he took my hand.

  Now the silence was a blanket.

  And it felt so very warm.

  Silas.

  I want to know more.

  The anger wasn’t natural. The rage was like a furnace, with someone feeding the fire. One log, after another. Maybe it was because I’d decided something—that Anna was put in my path for a reason, that I was meant to take care of her.

  That, in some way, she was my redemption.

  I’d tried so hard here, in this little town, to do good and erase the past. Yet, this life had only acted as a bandage on the torture that roiled inside of me. What was it about her? She resembled nothing from my life before—fresh and young and... so, so broken. In ways I didn’t fully understand, but I was beginning to.

  She’d been raped, that much was crystal clear.

  And she was choosing to keep the baby. Also clear.

  It was her strength, maybe, that I found so compelling. Perhaps I’d sensed it from the beginning—from the second we’d met in the diner with Bernie’s bumbling grin staring at us from behind the counter.

  She was sleeping now, her face peaceful. They hadn’t come to get her for any tests yet. I’d told her I’d stay for a while—and though she’d said it wasn’t necessary, and she’d been asleep for over an hour—I couldn’t bring myself to stand up and walk out of the hospital room, not as the soft thrums of her snoring filled the room with their own sort of music.

  It was late now. I needed sleep too. I was being ridiculous. Standing, I walked over to where she was sleeping and I stared at her a minute. The bond was growing like a bridge between two continents. Worlds merging at break-neck speed. You’re not supposed to fall in love like that more than once in a lifetime.

  She’s too young for you. My brain reasoned. She’s too pure. My soiled heart screamed. She’s everything you need to live again. My soul wept in tandem to the other outcries. Asher used to say I had a poetic soul. Too sensitive to survive for long without something anchoring me to life. I always thought he was that something, but once he was gone... I realized that I was that something for him and not the other way around. I’d anchored him to his life, until I’d led to his sailing away. His fast goodbye of shaking body and frothing mouth. Because he’d wanted that last trip down memory river.

  I had time for a shower. They still had to do tests, and they weren’t going to release her in the middle of the night. If they did, did she have someone to pick her up? Someone she trusted? I wouldn’t be gone long. Shower. Change. I could be back in less than an hour.

  I walked out briskly, because if I moved slowly I’d change my mind about leaving at all. Every footfall away from her room made my chest tighten.

  Years ago... after the fall.

  ALL I COULD DO WAS nod.

  That was his bod
y on the slab.

  Asher...looked as beautiful as ever now. His hair had been brushed. The coroner had taken some care making him look presentable before I needed to identify him. I still didn’t understand why it was necessary—he’d died in my arms.

  “We need you to say it out loud for the record, Mr. Thatcher.” The coroner was holding a recording device, and looking at me with sympathetic eyes. “I’m sorry, but it’s necessary. I know this is hard.”

  “That’s him. That’s Asher Banks.” Tears were gathering in my eyes. Seconds later they’re rolling down my face.

  “Thank you, Mr. Thatcher. That’s all we needed.” The coroner turned off the recorder and placed a hand on my shoulder. Why did people always do that when they’re trying to comfort you? They touch your body, gently and typically on the arm or shoulder. And they act like that human contact was going to make it all better.

  It didn’t. It only made it worse, especially when you’re mourning a loved one and you know you’ll never again feel their touch.

  The last thing you wanted was to be reminded of what a hand feels like on your body. Of what a hug feels like. Human contact was the worst thing you could possibly give someone who’d just lost everything.

  I can’t forget

  The bet we made, our love-lost haze

  Or the cards they dealt

  In this human race

  For eternity spent without a trace

  Of shadows in the midnight place

  Morning comes

  And nothing sings

  These birds can’t fly with broken wings

  Keep moving is the rooster’s cry

  As dreams and memories

  Fall away

  To make room for us digging graves

  ‘I’ve paid my dues to the ferryman

  tossed him my coin, watched it sink down

  into those waters, those black still pools

  you call it sin, but I’ve been abused

  down the river. down the river. down the river to Neverland.’

  Reapers don’t ask nice

  Sure as hell they don’t ask twice

  It’s over when you throw the dice

  I’M SHOWERED, CHANGED, and back in Anna’s room in forty-five minutes—beauty of living in town, so close to work. She’s not there when I come back though. They’d finally come to get her for whatever tests they wanted to do. And I’d been gone. Isn’t that the luck of it? You wait and wait, and as soon as you stop waiting...

  I go to the nurses’ station and find Bree, a six foot two Amazon of a woman with pitch black hair that seems a mile long. It’s swinging loose right now, in a dark oil slick down her back. She typically keeps it pulled up. Hair like that gets in the way of the job.

  “Hey, Bree. I was wondering if you know how the patient in 16 is doing?”

  She looked up at me and smiles. “Hey, Silas.” Her gaze roved over the desk in front of her until she picked up a folder and flipped it open. “Yeah, she’s fine. Vitals were normal thirty minutes ago and then they took her for an ultrasound.”

  Ultrasound.

  “Great, thanks. I’ll head that way,” I spoke as I began to leave, but was stopped when Bree called me back.

  “Hey, Silas,” she started, and paused, then spoke again. “Your interest in this girl hasn’t gone unnoticed. It’s all anyone can talk about around here.”

  “Yeah, so?” I knew I sounded defensive. I couldn’t filter it out. All my emotions were right on the surface, trying to scream to life.

  “So, she’s young. And she’s in a bad way. More than anything, I think that girl needs professional support, not a relationship.” Bree stopped speaking, yet again, but I could tell she wasn’t finished. “Listen, I’ve been where she is. I had my oldest at seventeen. And for me? I got pregnant, because I was a careless teen who thought she’d lose her boyfriend if she didn’t put out. This girl? She’s dealing with a much harsher backstory.”

  “I know,” my voice faltered. I sighed. “Yeah, I know, Bree.”

  “Just don’t dick with her, Silas.”

  “I don’t dick with people, Bree,” I bit back.

  “Everyone’s a dick now and then. Maybe justified, maybe not, but we all got bad shit ready to spew all over someone. It doesn’t hurt to tread carefully.” She turned away from me and walked through the door that led to the nurse’s break room on this level.

  I started moving towards the elevator. Most of the tests were run on the floor above this one. I stopped though, after only a few feet. Was I sure enough about how I felt for this girl to... insert myself into the experience she’s having right now? And if I’m not, and I hurt her later, will I worsen what she’s going through? The memory of me being there?

  So I turned around. I went to her room instead.

  And I search the deepest parts of my damned soul for the truth. Because Bree’s words were an echo in my ear, and I’ve got so much bad shit in my past, ready to erupt all over something innocent and beautiful. If I wasn’t careful. I had to put her first. I couldn’t explain why I was so drawn to her, and maybe I wouldn’t be able to fight it...

  Her room was empty. The clothing I’d brought her to the hospital in were folded neatly on the rolling table near the bed. I walked over and touched them, lifting the light blue top and realizing that, though it’s clean, it’s also old. Several seasons ago. Same with the pants. College girls were all manners of clothing—bleach-stained sweats, boyfriend shirts, tatty baseball caps and casual shirts riding up their midriffs. But, they all had a distinct lack of care in their dressing, name brands or not. They mostly wore casual comfort.

  Anna took care of her things. For some reason, I got the feeling that wasn’t because they meant something to her or she was raised to do so. In this case, I think it was because she doesn’t have much. A blouse ruined didn’t mean ‘go shopping’, it meant your wardrobe got smaller.

  Ain’t got nothing but this bag

  Filled with every single rag

  Broken up and used

  Marked by the abuse

  I put my own self through

  Faster than a hurricane

  The hate was harder than cocaine

  When I finally saw the truth in you

  In this busted bag

  Of rags

  And the forgotten

  Anna.

  I’m scared. Even though it’s just a harmless test, and it can’t hurt us, I’m still scared.

  The technician had a nice face. Warm, like summer. And her eyes were the exact color of a piece of amber I’d seen in a museum once. The stone had held a dragonfly. And all I could think at the time was, how said for it, to stop such a beautiful life mid-living. I thought of that now, looking into the nurse’s gaze. I thought of that, and I reflect on what everyone has been asking me—am I sure?

  I am sure.

  Because I am not amber. I am not stone. I cannot both hold and end a life mid-living.

  “This might feel cold. I’m sorry.” Her voice was soothing and kind.

  I cringed when the cool gel hit my bared stomach and I gripped at the sheets on the hospital bed.

  Her face was apologetic now, yet still held summer at the edges. “I know. I’ve asked so many times for a warmer. But it is what it is. Big giant hospital, so many expenses. Lord forbid we buy things that make things more comfortable for our patients.” She placed the wand against my stomach and swirled it around.

  “At least the foods not terrible.” I only said it to fill the silence, but the technician chuckled.

  “The food is terrible,” she snorted and adjusted some knobs on the ultrasound machine. “Ready?” Her voice was kind. I nodded weakly.

  What felt like an eternity later, a thumping sound filled the room. It was furtive and vital. My baby.

  “See that,” the tech had her finger on the black and white screen now. “That little fluttering is the heart. No matter how many times I do this, I still love to see that.”

  I squinted at the scr
een, at my little bean taking up such a small space. Tears filled my eyes. All the pain. All the torment. How could a tiny fluttering on a gray-scale screen dissolve my history of hell? But it did, in some ways. The scars would never fully leave, but they might fade into a lighter hue. “Are you going to find out the sex?” Are you going to have sex? Was what I heard.

  My eyes darted to the tech, who was happily working the wand and checking whatever she needed to—it all looked the same to me. “What did you say?”

  “Are you going to find out the sex? I find most parents prefer that, so they can prepare clothing and the nursery.” She replaced the wand in its holder and wiped the gel off my stomach with a towel.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. I don’t have a nursery. I don’t have money to buy clothes. I don’t have anything. Was what I wanted to say... there was so much I wasn’t saying lately. That’s how it always was before too. Keeping so much inside, screaming into my pillow when I thought no one would hear me. I was free now, across the country from the nightmare, yet it still claimed my voice. I was still in a prison of silence. “Maybe. Can you tell now?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No, not yet. Usually we can tell gender after sixteen weeks. You’re closer to ten right now I think. Does that sound about right?”

  I nodded slowly. “Yes,” I whispered. “I think that’s about right.” I bit my lower lip, hard, and I tasted the first promise of blood. It would only take a little more pressure to properly bleed. “Does everything look okay?” I whispered. I wanted to speak louder, to be heard clearer, but it was like my heart was in a vice. Reality sinking in, fast and furiously.

  “Honestly, I’m supposed to take the images and let the doctor talk to you,” she hesitated, then winked, “but honestly, everything looks amazing.”

  Her words should be a relief. So many women in the world trying to create life, to be mothers. I was both happy and sad, because this isn’t what I’d wanted for my life.

  “That’s great. I’m so glad,” I stuttered out the words.

  The nurse technician quirked an eyebrow, then she frowned a little. “It’s okay to not know how to feel. It’s okay to know how you feel and be sad. You don’t—”